


Delicacy

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gentle Petyr, One-Shot, Petyr is a painter, Romance, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23668204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: He came at night.Sansa was sleeping when the phone located in her parents’ bedroom rang. It must be a medical emergency for her father was a doctor. They lived surrounded by nature, twenty-minute ride from the nearest town.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Delicacy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. i hope you all are doing well <3
> 
> This one-shot is inspired by Seeing the Beauty in everything by Clarissa_DN38416. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it :-) 
> 
> English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. Thanks for reading! :-)

He came at night.

Sansa was sleeping when the phone located in her parents’ bedroom rang. It must be a medical emergency for her father was a doctor. They lived surrounded by nature, twenty-minute ride from the nearest town. 

Several minutes passed before her parents’ bedroom door opened. Sansa heard footsteps coming closer, walking past her door and finally going down the stairs.

The last thing she heard was the front door opening and closing again.

Then, a silence fell over the mansion.

*

She didn’t go back to sleep. She waited and waited and waited until the sound of an engine car broke the silence. Sansa sat up in bed and turned her head to the window. She always kept the curtains open during the night. She liked to see the dark sky and the moonlight.

A yellowish light masked the silver moon rays. His father must have turned on the garden lights before leaving. Sansa got up and approached the window. She stood beside the left curtain and peeked outside. 

Her father’s car was parked next to the 5-tier flower fountain. He got out of the car and opened the passenger door. Sansa leaned forward until her nose almost touched the glass.

A slim man with dark hair got out of the car, helped by Ned. His left leg was covered by a plaster cast. Her father closed the car door, and they started walking towards the front door, the stranger using a crutch and resting his left arm on Ned’s. Sansa moved away from the window. 

The man mustn’t live nearby. Otherwise, her father wouldn’t have taken him here. This wasn’t the first time a patient stayed at the Stark Mansion until they recovered. The guest quarters were located on the ground floor. It was the door next to the library, the one with the walking stick of Aesculapius engraved on it; it leaded to two bedrooms and one bathroom. Only her father and the servants went to this area of the house.

Sansa tucked herself into bed and closed her eyes, but she spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. 

*

“There’s a patient living in the guest quarters so I must ask you all not to make too much noise,” Ned said in the morning.

“Why are you looking at me?” Arya protested. “Bran and Rickon are the ones who run around inside the house, screaming, slamming doors shut and breaking stuff.”

“We don’t break things on purpose!” Bran exclaimed. “It just happens.”

“Sure, the vases just fall onto the ground and shatter by chance. Or perhaps there’s a ghost living in this mansion.”

“No, don’t speak about ghosts!” Bran covered his ears. “You know I’m afraid of them!”

“Arya!” Catelyn looked at her daughter with a disapproving frown. Don’t scare your brother.”

“Sorry, mom.” Arya dropped her gaze to her plate. 

“How long will he stay here, dad?” Sansa asked her father.

“His left leg is broken, but it’s a minor fracture, so I expect it to heal in about 6 weeks. He should stay a couple of weeks afterwards, but that’s up to him.”

“Hey, how did you know it was a man?” Arya turned to her sister, her eyes filled with suspicion. 

“I saw him last night,” Sansa admitted averting her gaze from her. Shit, why Arya had to be so nosy? She turned back to her father and explained: “The phone woke me up. I heard you leaving and I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“It’s alright, honey.” Her father rubbed his face. He looked tired. 

Her mother also noticed it. She put a hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep until lunch?”

“Yes, I think, I’ll do,” Ned said. “But I’ll first check on Mr. Baelish.”

Mr. Baelish. That surname was familiar to Sansa… Oh, yes, now she remembered. She’d read it in a newspaper; his name had been mentioned on an article about an art exhibition in the capital. 

“It was unfortunate,” her father went on. “Mr. Baelish had just left the hotel where he was staying when he had the accident. He’s a painter, and some of his paintings got damaged. I put all of them in the other guest bedroom for now, but if another patient has to stay here, I’ll carry the paintings to the library.”

“Poor man,” Catelyn said. “Seeing your work ruined is awful. Perhaps he can repair those paintings.”

“I don’t know,” Ned replied. “I know nothing about art. But it might help him keep entertained during his convalescence.”

Catelyn nodded, and looked at Arya, Bran and Rickon.

“You’ve heard your father. Don’t be noisy. Mr. Baelish needs a peaceful environment.”

“Yes, mom,” they said at the same time.

*

In the afternoon, her parents and her siblings went to the town. Bran and Rickon needed some clothes, and Arya was going to get a haircut. Sansa stood in the doorway and waved at them as the car drove off.

When the car disappeared behind a tree, Sansa went inside and closed the door behind her. She paused for a moment, but before she could realize, her feet started moving towards the door with the walking stick of Aesculapius engraved on it.

Sansa stared at the picture, hesitant. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to come in and meet him. She looked around. No servants were there. She turned to the door again and grabbed the door handle. 

She crossed the threshold.

The corridor was short. Soon she was in front of the three doors. The left room was the bathroom, but Sansa didn’t know what his bedroom was. She knocked at the room in the middle, and heard his voice.

“Come in.”

Sansa took a deep breath and stepped into the room. It looked more like a living room than a bedroom. There was a large sofa near the bed, and on the opposite wall there was a desk and a fireplace. 

Mr. Baelish was sat up in bed. His hair was disheveled, and his white linen shirt had the top buttons undone. The crutch was leaning on the wall, beside the headboard.

He looked surprised for a moment. Surely, he was expecting her father. But soon, a smile crossed his lips. 

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Sansa replied without moving from her place. She shifted her weight, and her floral dress fluttered slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. My parents have gone to the town with my siblings, and I was wondering if you needed something. Uhm… I’m Sansa.”

His smile broadened. He held out his hand.

“Petyr.”

Sansa came closer to him to take his hand. His eyes were a mix of gray and green, and they lit up when Sansa met his gaze. His skin was soft and warm. 

Sansa had never been alone with a man in a room. It was not proper, according to what she’d been taught. She knew the richest families in the area, the ones who invited them to parties would be shocked if they found out. However, she wasn’t ashamed; she didn’t regret stepping into his bedroom. They weren’t doing anything wrong.

“It’s very kind of you,” Petyr said releasing her hand. “I’m alright, just a little bored. I was going to ask your father to bring me my paint brushes and a canvas. I’d like to start a painting.”

“I shall bring them myself, if you like,” she offered.

“Thank you. That would be great.”

“I’ll be right back,” she said smiling at him.

*

She knocked at his door again, this time carrying his paint brush case, a small easel he used to paint on little canvas, and a folder where he kept the little black canvas.

“Come in.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

She walked into the room and approached his bed. 

“Thank you,” he said when she handed him the easel.

“You’re welcome.” Sansa placed the paint brush case and the folder on the bed. Then, she watched him prepare the easel and pull out a black canvas, wondering if she should leave now. She didn’t want to.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Petyr lifted his head and asked:

“Could you stay a little longer, please? It’s nice to have company.”

“Sure.” She smiled and sat on the sofa.

He opened the paint brush case and started mixing some acrylic paints.

“What do you like to paint most?”

“Landscapes,” he answered. “Forests, enraged sea, cliffs… I love Romanticism.”

“Me too. My favorite artist is William Turner,” Sansa told him.

“He’s one of my favorites,” Petyr said as he worked. He paused to look at her. “This place is breathtaking. Today I’ve been able to see the gardens through my window, and honestly, I don’t know whether I like it better at night or in daylight. I paint from imagination, taking some inspiration from here and there. A landscape, a photography, a dream, a movie. I’d like to make a painting inspired by this place.”

“It would be awesome!”

His lips twitched.

“I shall show it to you when it’s done.”

“I’d love to.”

*

From that day on, Sansa kept visiting him. She only did so when their family went to the town, and she didn’t tell anyone. It was their secret. They spent those hours talking about art and life, and knowing each other better. Sansa learned that Petyr had traveled to many countries, but that he hadn’t been able to find the place to call his home yet. He’d made a small bird sculpture many years ago, when he started making a living from selling his paintings. A mockingbird. He’d put it in a box. Sometimes he opened it and stared at the sculpture, but he never pulled it out of the box. He told Sansa that he’d only do so when he found his home.

*

The weeks passed, and his leg healed. Finally, one day, Ned removed his plaster cast. 

“You can put weight on your leg again,” he told Petyr. “You should start walking so you can regain muscle strength. You should stay here for a little while.”

“Thank you.”

*

In the afternoon, Sansa visited him.

“Hi,” she said tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hi.” His face lit up when he saw her. He was beside the window.

“I’m so glad your leg has healed.”

“Thank you, sweetling.” He’d started to call her sweetling a week after they met, and Sansa always felt warm inside when she heard that word. “Your father says I should start walking again, so I’ve been walking around the room and along the corridor. Tomorrow I’ll probably go outside. It will be nice to be able to take a walk.” He paused when he noticed something on her face. He tilted his head and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Sansa dropped her gaze to the ground and clasped her hands.

“I’m glad you’re recovered. Truly. But… I’ll miss you.”

“Come here," he asked softly.

Sansa lifted her chin and saw him sat on the sofa. She approached him and sat down too. She looked down at her hands.

“Sansa, look at me, please.”

She felt a knot in her throat. She swallowed and turned her head to meet his gaze. Petyr’s expression was gentle, but there was concern in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Petyr. Today is a happy day. You can finally walk again.” She got teary eyed. No, she couldn’t cry. She couldn’t. She took a deep breath. “I’m very happy for you.”

Petyr shifted closer. His leg brushed against her knee.

“But…?” he muttered.

“I…” Her voice sounded faint.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to go,” she finally said, and her tears began falling down her cheeks. 

“Oh, sweetling.” He cupped her face and leaned in. His lips touched hers soothingly, and Sansa stopped crying; his action had caught her off guard.

Petyr pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, to her nose, and finally to her earlobe.

“I think it's time to open the box and set the bird free,” he whispered.

Sansa sucked in a breath. She pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. 

“What?” Had she heard him right?

His lips curled into a soft smile. 

“I was thinking about renting a house in the town. You could visit me. We shall go to the cafés, or to the theater, or have a picnic. Whatever you wish. How does it sound?”

Sansa let out a shaky laugh. More tears fell down her cheeks, but this time they were tears of relief and happiness. She hugged him.

“I love you,” she said, and kissed his temple, and his cheek, and his mouth.

Petyr put his hands on her waist and kissed her unhurriedly, letting her set the pace. When her lips parted, his tongue caressed her, making the heat in her belly grow more intense. He gently pushed her down on the sofa. When her head touched the sofa arm, his hands traveled down her legs, and even though her dress covered them, his touch sent a shiver down her spine. Slowly, he leaned forward and settled between her legs. His lips caressed her neck and her chin and the spot behind her ear. He pulled away slightly to watch her face.

“I love you too.” 

“Petyr.” She touched his jaw and tilted her head forward, silently asking him to kiss her again.

He did. 

It started raining when they sat up. The drops of water hit the window. Petyr slid his hands inside her dress and caressed her back, and stopped when he touched her bra.

“May I?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

He unclasped her bra and gently pushed her down on the sofa again. A raw emotion flickered in his eyes. His hands caressed her thighs, pushing her dress upwards slowly, and his lips brushed against her left breast so softly that she almost didn't feel it. Sansa didn’t stop him.

She wanted this.


End file.
